


In Our Blind Spot

by Bea_Trix_Yagri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, One Piece
Genre: Epic Friendship, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bea_Trix_Yagri/pseuds/Bea_Trix_Yagri
Summary: “Can you read it to me? I like being read to.” Rosalita began to study the carpet. “I like the faces you make too.”“Oh,well..”“You can go from where you’re up to, I don’t mind.”Hermione gasped in offence, “You can’t start a book from the middle Rosalita.” She took it back and opened to the first page.-It's the start of a terrible, messy friendship; complete with near death experiences, conspiracy and pirates.
Relationships: Hermione&Rosalita
Kudos: 21





	In Our Blind Spot

**Author's Note:**

> This is unedited but it is technically the second draft. The tags are a mess cause it's not mapped out well and I don't really know where I'm going in terms of the actual story, but it's meant to evolve into a twist on the harry raised by others and fem!harry stories. As well as trying to explore a bit in how the wizarding world stamps out muggle influence in those just entering the society. I do have more to type up, but all posting will be very irregular. I set it in like the early 2000's, although honestly Cannon Harry potter has not time period specific stuff when you think about it, it can take place in any decade. The One Peice side of things is important but take a bit to come into the story. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.

Hermione would forever blame Trevor. She thought about blaming poor Neville, but it just didn’t seem fair; not while the poor boy was sobbing as he trailed after her, tears nearly as fat as him rolled off his face in waves. Neville didn’t lose the toad on purpose, so Hermione had to blame Trevor.

Hermione had just been about to tuck herself into a lonely compartment on the train. Her mother had packed sandwiches and a selection of her favourite books to keep her busy for the ride. She was two chapters into Matilda when Neville had burst in, panicking over the loss of his damned toad.

“Have you seen my toad, Trevor? I’ve lost him,” he said.

Hermione was never the best at making friends; once bitten twice shy perfectly described her friend situation. Girls would pretend for a day then pull her hair the next. She wanted nothing more than to retreat behind the safety of Matilda’s pages, but in the extra sandwiches and snacks she could feel her mother’s hope. Hope for more than paper pages to keep her company.

“No, I’m sorry,” she said, closing her book and standing up. “But I can help you look.” They set off together, going from compartment to compartment looking for the wayward toad. After about six Hermione proposed they split up. “We’ll cover more ground,” she explained. Neville agreed, nodding before heading towards the front while Hermione continued to the back.

Two cars down, there was no sign of Trevor, though some students had directed her towards the prefect’s compartment. Hermione continued downwards, knocking and asking, until she came to a compartment at the end of the car, occupied only by a girl her age.

Hermione was about to knock, but as she raised her hand the girl with all her little might kicked the window. Hermione swung open the door and march through the opening, it slammed shut behind her, announcing her arrival with a bang.

What do you think your doing!?” Hermione shouted. The girl paused in mid stance, slowly she lowered her leg and looked at Hermione.

“I’m trying to break the window,” she replied, then returned to her previous position.

“Why?”

“To escape… Duh.” She leaned back on her left leg and kicked at the window with her right, the attack did little more than produce a dull thud as her shoes hit the glass.

“The windows are unbreakable.”

“Nothing is unbreakable,” was the girls reply, punctuated by another kick at the window.

Hermione sighed. “Yes they are, they have a spell on them. They’re unbreakable.”

“Well,” kick, thud. “How,” kick, thud. “Do,” kick kick, thud. “You,” kick thud. “Know?” 

“I read about it in Hogwarts: A History,” said Hermione.

“The one with thick pages and the heavy bindings?” The girl asked. 

“Yes.”

She stopped her vandalism attempts to dig through a heavy blue and yellow bag, from it she pulled a heavy leather bound copy of Hogwarts: A History. A second hand copy, Hermione noticed, the spine was worn from use, Hermione doubted that was from the violent girl. She stared at it contemplatively, her emerald green eyes then rose to meet Hermione's brown. 

She then tossed it at the window.

“Are you mad!?” Hermione screeched as she rushed to the poor books rescue.

“No. I’m exploring all possible actions.”

“To what? Break out of a moving train!?” asked Hermione. She slowly paged through the book looking for tears in its pages. Her face scrunching in disgust as she flipped past multiple dog ears and creases thought the book.

“Yes,” the book abuser replied. “I’ve been kidnapped, and this may be my only chance of escape.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the dramatics. “Well, I’ve got better things to do. Go ahead you try to ‘escape’.” She tried pouring as much sarcasm into the word, though hermione was afraid she’d just sounded extra snooty. She tried to leave the compartment, only to find the door wouldn’t move. Maybe it got stuck when she slammed it.

“It’s locked,” said the girl. Hermione really should learn her name. 

“I noticed.”

“I guess we’re stuck here until my kidnapper comes back.”

Hermione might have sobbed a little on the inside. With no way to leave, other than the girl’s futile escape attempts, she tucked herself into a corner and glowered at the girl. Who promptly ignored her. 

Hermione mourned for her sandwiches and what poor Neville would think of her. First day and she’d already destroyed one opportunity. 

“Father’s list, go through father’s list,” Hermione whispered to herself. She turned to face the girl again, and summoned all her patience and courage. “We haven’t introduced ourselves, I’m Hermione Granger.” She held out her hand, successfully completing step one of John Granger’s ‘how to make friends’ list.

“Donquixote Rosalita,” the other girls said, as she finally stopped her assault on the window and sat opposite Hermione. “Although, I think it’s said, Rosalita Donquixote here.” Rosalita clasped the edge of her fingers, unsure of the gesture, and gently shook. 

Hermione was still figuring out the pronunciation of her last name, on the bright side, all fear of her name sounding a bit pretentious where now erased after hearing Rosalita Donquixote.

“Donquixote? Like the spanish novel, Don Quixote?”

“Never heard of it.”

Hermione sighed. She tried looking out the window, but it was just fields and green pastures of the United Kingdom blurring past them. She lasted ten minutes before turning back to her mad companion. 

Rosalita was a beautiful girl. Delicate and symmetrical features, coupled with dark emerald eyes created a striking image. Hermione wouldn’t call her pale, she was pallid - like sunlight was a rarity - and it made her black hair seem darker. On a good day she assumed it was silky and hung in perfect waves - Rosalita seemed like the type to have hair that hung in perfect waves - but her exertion from earlier had it limp and sticky from sweat.

Hermione shifted in her spot, turning her gaze away from anything related to Rosalita. In doing so she felt the outline of Matilda tucked into her school robes. She thanked her mother and pulled the book from her pocket and dove back into the life of Matilda Wormwood. For the next part of an hour Hermione got to ignore the tension of the compartment and bask in words of Roald Dahl.

“What are you reading?” asked Rosalita, now bored of the silence. “Everytime I look over you’ve got this little grin on your face, or your mouthing words.”

Hermione huffed, girls used to teasing her all the time about the faces she would make while reading, she could at least run to a teacher, or hide in the library. There was no escape in a locked compartment.

“It’s cute,” finished Rosalita.

“Cute?”

“MmmHmm, my brother does the same,” she said, her eyes seemed to wander in empty space, lost in memory. “He makes all kinds of faces when he’s reading. So, what are you reading?”

“Matilda by Roald Dahl. It’s about a little girl with powers, like us.”

“Could you read it to me?”

“You can read it…” Hermione was about to let her read it, she had others, except those where in her bag. Her bag was in her original compartment with her trunk. “I left my bag alone, it has everything in it.” Hermione stood up in panic. “My lunch, my books.” She stopped. “It has my school uniform, I can’t not have the uniform on my first day.”

“Is your bag purple with weird things hanging off it?”

“Yes!” Hermione turned and grabbed Rosalita by the shoulders. “How do you know?” 

Rosalita pointed up at the storage rack, where her trunk and backpack where stored. She reached and pulled her bag down. Opening up to find everything in its place. Her mother had packed lunch, some treats - both muggle and wizard - and a selection of books. Her uniform was neatly folded at the bottom.

“What are these?” Rosalita asked fiddling with the various knick knacks and charms stuck her bag. 

“This is Blossom, she’s the leader of the Powerpuff girl, but she’s also really smart.” Hermione pointed at a pink cartoon plushie. “This is GIR, he’s from this show called Invader Zim, I like Zim more than GIR, but we couldn’t find anything for him at the time.” 

“It’s cute.”

“He’s cute,” she emphasized. “Here,” she passed Matilda to Rosalita. “I have my other books now, you can read it. Just don’t crease the pages.” Rosalita turned it gently in her hands before offering it back to Hermione. 

“Can you read it to me? I like being read to.” Rosalita began to study the carpet. “I like the faces you make too.”

“Oh,well..”

“You can go from where you’re up to, I don’t mind.”

Hermione gasped in offencence, “You can’t start a book from the middle Rosalita.” She took it back and opened to the first page. “Chapter One, The Reader of Books.”

_-_

When Rosalita was young, when her brother and her only had a single coat to share between them. He would tie her to his back underneath it, and she’d nap in the warmth of her brother and the fur of the coat.

One cold night as they’d been walking home, after her brother had been fired from an apprenticeship - he’d corrected the master on time to often - he’d spoken. A rare occurrence, their walks were filled with his exhausted breaths, and her sleepy ones. She remembered this one, they hadn’t walked home, they’d stowed away on a supply ship and moved to the next island. 

“Why do we have to leave?” she’d asked. Rosalita had liked the little town they were in, her brother would go door to door for his apprenticeship with her, and the people in the houses would feed them and let her draw, while her brother did his work.

“Cause they might try to take you away from me.” He explained.

“What about your thingy?”

“My apprenticeship? Don’t worry, I learned all I needed from him. The next island has a proper hospital, maybe I can finally work in surgical suite.”

“What if they don’t like us?”

Law was silent. He untied his sister from his back, pulling her round to sit on his lap. 

“One day we won’t have to run. I promise. One day, when they learn who we are, they’ll run away.” He said. “They’ll be afraid, not us.”

_-_

“Is Hogwarts going to be like that?” asked Rosalita. She was stretched out on the opposite seat, taking great delight in eating a squirming chocolate frog. Carefully biting the legs off one by one, before watching it wriggle in her hands. 

“It’s just fiction, schools aren’t allowed to throw children out of windows or lock them in the chokey.” Although they were going to a magic school, and Diagon Alley had seemed very medieval, thought Hermione. “But sometimes, they have Trunchbulls and sometimes they have Miss Honey’s. It just depends.”

“I’ve never been to school.”

“Never!?” Hermione gasped. “Were you home-schooled?”

“I don’t know what that means.” Rosalita admitted. “My brother taught me everything.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I can read and write in three languages, and I can speak four. I’m not very good at math but I know how much things should cost.” Rosalita hadn’t finished chewing the chocolate frog, Hermione could see part of the chocolate dissolving on her tongue as she spoke, it still twitched everyone and then in the mouth. “I like art.”

“What about history?”

“It’s subjective and biased towards the victors.”

“English?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s the language we’re speaking.”

“Huh.” Rosalita pondered that for a moment. “Has he written anymore books, the Rol fellow. I liked that one.”

“Yes, my mum put a few in my bag, I can find one of his shorter ones. Hermione dug through her bag again, although she tossed the last of the wizarding candy at Rosalita to finish. The moving thing was a bit creepy.

Hermione mother had packed a surprise selection of books. Her algebra textbook, Hogwarts: A History, and range of fiction. From Inkheart, Platform No. 13 a couple of animorph books and more Roald Dahl.

“My mother must think she’s so funny,” said Hermione. Pulling one of her favourite books - although it had made terrified of any woman with gloves for months - out from the pile.

“Why?”

Hermione passed her copy of the witches for Rosalita to see. 

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s about a muggles idea of witches, they aren’t nice like the ones at Hogwarts.”

“How do you know they’re nice?”


End file.
